As swiftly and completely gone,
The lofty thoughts it once inspired in us.
What infinite desires,
What mighty visionings
In our ecstatic hearts
Pure beauty and true harmonies inspire;
When in delicious seas, exulting,
The mortal spirit floats
Like some strong swimmer sporting in the waves:
Then one discordant accent
Smites the ear, and instantly to naught
Is turned our paradise!
O human nature, if thou
Be altogether frail and vile,
Of dust and shadow,
Whence come these sentiments?
Or, if thou art partly noble,
Why are thy worthiest thoughts and aspirations
Debased, then, with such ease,
And by such trivial causes lifted and consumed?
THE SETTING OF THE MOON
All on the lonely night,
Above the silvered fields and streams
Where zephyrs frolic, and the far-off shades
Assume a thousand ghostly forms
And false appearances;
Amid the tranquil brooks;
The leaves, the hedges, hill-slopes and the towns,
The moon, beyond the earth's far-stretching bounds,
Behind the Alps and Apennines,
Descends into the sea's eternal breast.
The shadows fade; all pale becomes the earth,
In darkness clad the valley and the hill,
And only night remains:
The traveler, singing on his way,
Hails with sad chant the last, wan ray
Of light, that led his steps.
